


Pussy(cat)

by Moit



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Comedy, Crack, Gen, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 07:38:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6648328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moit/pseuds/Moit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris makes a deal with a witch and gets turned into a cat for his trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pussy(cat)

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure crack. I don't even know how it happened. 
> 
> Special thank you to Naemi for the beta.

She was a friend of Vail’s. Chris had heard Vail and her girlfriends talk about her, but desperate times called for desperate measures. 

 

“Christopher Pine.” Her crimson smile gave him goosebumps. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, Chris gathered his nerve. “I need your help.” 

 

“Why don’t you come in?” 

 

She offered him a coffee and waited patiently while he told his tale of woe and Vail. 

 

“It’s going to cost you.” 

 

“I can pay. Money is no object.” 

 

“I don’t want your money.” She leaned across the desk. “I want to watch you suffer as the thing you can’t seem to live without.” 

 

Before Chris could ask what she meant, she snapped her fingers. All at once, Chris felt sick to his stomach. He looked down at the coffee cup like it held answers. The table in front of him began to blur. Chris slumped in his chair and slid down, down. Pretty soon, all he could see was the hardwood floor and the fabric of his hoodie as it swallowed him.   

 

When the sick feeling passed, Chris tried to ask what she’d done to him, but all that came out was a high-pitched whine. He shook himself free of the hoodie. Looking down, he saw white fur and paws. She’d turned him into a cat!

 

She bent down to his level, and he hissed in her face.  _ Bitch! _

 

“It will wear off soon enough,” she said. “Once you’ve learned your lesson.” 

 

_ Learned my lesson?  _ Chris thought. 

 

Luckily, when she pushed him out the door, he didn’t have to worry about walking for hours. He did, however, have to worry about getting hit by a car and stepped on by pedestrians. 

 

Chris made it back to his house in one piece only to realize his phone and keys were with his clothes. Not that he’d be able to open the door without hands. Fuck. Since he lived alone, there wouldn’t be anyone to let him in the house. He needed a place to stay. 

 

Racking his brain, he tried to think of his friends nearby who would take in a stray cat. And then it hit him. Zach and Miles were in town for a few months, and Zach loved animals. All Chris had to do was show up, meow plaintively, and Zach would be putty in his hands—well, paws. 

 

On the way over there, Chris caught sight of his reflection in a metal garbage can. At least he was a regular white cat and not one of those horrible smash-faced Persians. 

 

To Chris’s great dismay, Zach and Miles were nowhere to be seen. Chris couldn’t hear anything from outside the door, and there were no cars in the driveway. He sat down to wait. 

 

He must have dozed off because he woke to the sound of excited barking. Instinctively, he arched his back and his hackles rose. Coming towards him down the driveway were Zach and Miles with Skunk straining his leash and Noah showing only mild interest. 

 

“It’s a cat,” Zach said. 

 

Chris forced himself to calm down. Zach wouldn’t let his dogs kill a cat (Would Skunk actually want to?), and he certainly wouldn’t adopt one that couldn’t get along with the dogs. 

 

Skunk stopped barking as soon as he got close enough to sniff. 

 

Lying back down, Chris rolled over to expose his vulnerable belly.  _ See? _ he tried to say,  _ I’m harmless _ . 

 

Zach handed the leashes to Miles. “Go on, cat.” He made a shooing motion. “Get out of here.” 

 

Chris rolled back onto his feet. He wasn’t sure how, but he began to purr as he wound his way between Zach and Miles’s legs.  _ Come on, pet me, pick me up, take me inside _ .  _ I’m so cute; you want to adopt me _ . 

 

“She is pretty friendly.” Miles leaned down to scratch Chris’s head. 

 

_ I may be a cat, but I’m not a fucking girl, Miles _ . Nevertheless, his heart swelled with affection for Zach’s boyfriend. 

 

“We do not need another cat,” Zach said pointedly. “Plus, what if she fights with Harold?”

 

“Harold needs a friend. All he’s got are these two boneheads.” 

 

Letting out a very put-upon sigh, Zach reached down to pick Chris up. Never let it be said that Zachary Quinto was immune to the wiles of his significant other or small furry animals. 

 

Butting his head into Zach’s chin, Chris purred as loud as he could.

 

“She’s probably a stray,” Zach said with a frown. “Look at that! Pretty big, furry balls for a girl.”

 

_ Zach, if you castrate me, I will fucking kill you _ , Chris thought furiously.

 

The dogs, who had lost interest in Chris, were pawing anxiously at the front door. 

 

“Let’s just take him in and see how he does,” Miles suggested. 

 

Zach said nothing, but Chris felt him sigh. 

 

The dogs bounded into the house, and Miles followed. Chris was placed on the floor of the foyer. He already knew the layout of the house, but he had to play tentative new cat. He just hoped Harold didn’t try to fight him or something. At least, he knew, he had claws and Harold did not. 

 

“See? He’s fine. You worry too much.” Looping an arm around Zach’s waist, Miles pressed a kiss to his neck. 

 

Zach hummed noncommittally and continued to watch Chris. 

 

Wanting to earn his friend’s approval so he could wait out this nightmare in peace, Chris padded into the living room. He hopped onto the couch and curled around himself.  _ See? I’m already at home _ . 

 

“We’re keeping him,” Miles said, and that was that. 

 

*

 

Harold appeared at the sound of a can being opened. “Here, kitty kitty,” Zach’s voice called. 

 

Figuring it would be strange if he stayed on the couch, Chris jumped down and wandered into the kitchen. 

 

Harold was twisting around Zach’s legs and meowing in a way that meant ‘feed me.’

 

“I’m getting it.” Zach set one plate down next to Harold and walked over to Chris with the other. “Are you hungry, Kitty?” 

 

The food smelled about as appetizing as dirty laundry, but it was either eat it or starve. 

 

After sniffing it to gather his nerve, Chris took a few bites. It didn’t suck. At least he didn’t have to eat kibble. 

 

Zach stroked a hand down his back, and Chris found himself arching into the touch. “Good boy.” 

 

Harold finished his dinner and sat back on his haunches to clean himself. That was when he noticed Chris. 

 

Chris maintained eye contact as he swallowed the food in his mouth. Hopefully, Zach could mediate if World War III erupted in the kitchen. 

 

Harold stalked toward him. 

 

Chris’s heart started to pound. He felt a low growl build in his throat. With the plate of food between them, Harold stopped. The entire room had stopped breathing. Both Chris and Zach were watching to see what Harold would do next. 

 

Eyes on Chris, Harold lowered his head and began to eat. 

 

“Hey, that’s not yours,” Zach admonished. He picked up the half-eaten plate of food. 

 

*

 

“That cat’s going to need a name.” 

 

Chris, who was currently curled up in Miles’s lap, sighed in content as Miles scratched behind his ears. 

 

“So we’re keeping him?”

 

“I don’t think you’d put him back outside if I told you to.” 

 

Chris stretched languidly and settled. He could get used to this.

 

“How about Kumar? Harold and Kumar?”

 

“No,” Zach said, and Chris cringed in agreement. 

 

“Spike?”

 

“He’s not a dog.” 

 

“I didn’t say Killer. What about Dior?”

 

“Definitely not.” 

 

Miles sighed. “Fine. Snowball. That’s a nice, normal cat name.” 

 

Zach raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s better than something like ‘Fluffy.’”

 

Chris, however, was not pleased that they’d elected to call him  _ Snowball _ . 

 

*

 

“Snowball!” Miles called. “Come here, boy! Daddy’s got something for you!” 

 

His patch of sunlight was almost too good to leave, but Miles had something for him. 

  
He should have known better, but once Miles got a hold of him, it was too late. 

 

Miles clipped a blue collar embroidered with the word “Snowball” and embellished with a bell around Chris’s neck. 

 

_ Harold doesn’t wear a collar _ , Chris thought indignantly. 

 

“Isn’t it pretty? It even matches your eyes.” 

 

Chris stared up at him, wishing fervently that he could shoot lasers out of his eyes. 

 

*

 

As if it wasn’t bad enough that  _ Miles _ thought the collar was the cutest thing ever, Harold thought Miles had brought him home a new toy. Every time Chris got close enough, Harold would paw at the bell. It got to the point where Chris hated to move because every time he did, it set the damn thing off. He’d tried chewing the collar off, but he couldn’t get his jaw under the fabric. 

 

The worst thing about being a cat, however, (as though there were many positives) was easily the inappropriate love Harold apparently felt for Chris. 

 

_ Zach, you have a gay cat. Of course you have a gay cat _ . 

 

Harold would snuggle up to him and lick his fur. Chris found it irritating as hell, but Miles and Zach thought it was the cutest thing ever. They would coo about it together, take pictures, and then presumably post them on Instagram. 

 

Living with Zach and Miles wasn’t all that bad. Chris got two meals a day and all the kibble he could eat (which he didn’t). The dogs left him alone, and save for the one time he’d been napping on the windowsill in the bedroom when he heard Zach say “Oh, Baby,” and Chris made his great escape, life as a cat didn’t suck. Sure, he longed for his phone and hands—God, how he missed having hands—but it could be worse. He could have been turned into a roach or something. 

 

*

 

The house was quiet. Zach had taken the dogs for a walk, and Miles was taking a nap. 

 

Chris was sprawled across the couch thinking of all the things he was going to do once he got his body back. Suddenly, he felt the familiar sickness in his stomach that had started this mess. 

 

Fuck, he had to get out of there. 

 

Sometimes, the back door was left cracked for the dogs, but Zach must have locked it on the way out. 

 

Feeling dizzy, Chris hurried through the house looking for an open window, a rat hole, something. He heard a key in the door and dashed up the stairs, the bell on his collar tinkling as he went. 

 

He couldn’t let Zach catch him like this. 

 

Just as he began to shift back, he made it into the bathroom. The collar fell to the floor, and naked and human, Chris frantically searched for an excuse. He heard footsteps on the stairs. 

 

Chris turned the shower on and slid under the spray. He held back a yelp at how cold the water was. 

 

Zach knocked on the door. “Babe?” 

 

Chris turned the water off and jumped back out of the shower. Mind whirling to create a plausible lie, he wrapped a towel around his waist and flung the door open. 

 

“Chris,” Zach said, clearly confused. “What are you doing here?” 

 

“They turned the water off at my place.” Chris put on an easy smile and scrubbed a hand through his wet hair. “I used the key you gave me to let myself in.” 

 

“Oh. Right.” Zach nodded as his brain struggled to process the lie. 

 

Spotting the Snowball collar, Chris’s stomach clenched. He nudged it with his toe out of Zach’s line of sight. “I’ll be out in a minute,” he said before shutting the door in Zach’s face. He balled the collar in his fist and held it tightly against the towel as he made his escape. 

 

Thankfully, Zach neglected to ask why Chris wasn’t wearing any shoes. 

 

*

 

Inevitably, Zach called the following day to ask if Chris had seen their cat, Snowball. “Miles is absolutely beside himself.” 

 

Even though he knew it was futile, Chris agreed to help them search. His heart broke at the sight of Miles, clearly distraught over the loss of his cat. At least it took the focus off of Chris’s unannounced visit and the house key Zach never gave him. 

 

After spending nearly two hours combing the neighborhood for a cat that didn’t exist, Chris made a decision. It cost him nearly $1,000, and he knew Zach would kill him for a multitude of reasons, but Chris managed to find an unneutered white cat with blue eyes and an even temperament. 

 

Chris snapped the collar around new-Snowball’s neck and walked over to Zach’s. 

 

Miles answered the door, and his face lit up. “Snowball!” He clutched the cat to his chest as his eyes filled with tears. “Where did you find him?”

 

Chris’s brain stuttered. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. “He was in my front yard. Guess the little guy didn’t wander too far from home, after all.” 

 

After leaving Miles a happy camper, Chris had one more stop to make. 

 

She must have been expecting him because she answered the door with his bundle of clothes in her hands. 

 

“What was the point of that?” he asked, more exasperated than angry. 

 

“To show you that the world does not revolve around you. Do you think you’ve learned your lesson?”

  
Chris hated to admit that he had.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Tumblr @moitmiller fawning over Chris's grey beard and Zach's sass. Life ruiners, both of them.


End file.
